


Violet Starting Over

by Breannacarter



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Domestic Discipline, F/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22765747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Breannacarter/pseuds/Breannacarter
Summary: Spanking Story (M/F) consensual-ish. AU explained in author's notes. Violet (AKA Rachel) struggles with the idea of returning to her ex spanker, Harvey. Warning for heavy drug use in upcoming chapters.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU from the perspective of Violet, either an original character or a purple-haired, Mexican version of Rachel. Mike is her journalist brother. Harvey is her ex-spanker. Trevor is her boyfriend. Donna is her pothead psychotherapist best friend. Some Bones characters mentioned, but not enough to consider this a crossover yet.

"You can't do that! You can't charge us for this!" My high-pitched shrill startled the attendant as the plane we were supposed to be on backed out of the gate. "It's your slow-ass security that's the problem, not me. It shouldn't take two fucking hours…"

"Ma'am, you will have to speak with customer service about this. Their desk is…"

"I don't give a fuck where their desk is! This airport sucks! _Es una mierda!_ " My fist slammed against the counter causing her to flinch. She's lucky it was there, because I wanted to punch her in the face, but had learned some self-control over the years.

My boyfriend, Trevor, heaved a sigh and touched my arm, his milky fingers a sharp contrast to my caramel-colored skin. "C'mon, Violet, it's not worth fighting." He kept an even tone, irritated yet calm. "Let's get another ticket, the plane's already gone. You can write them a complaint later."

I glared in his direction, then back at the woman, shoving her clipboard and sending all her papers flying to the floor. "Have fun picking those up," I sneered, now satisfied with having made her as miserable as she'd made me.

As we walked away, Trevor didn't allow me to relish in the taste of revenge, instead deciding to reprimand me. "I should pull your panties down and spank you right here in front of everyone."

"Don't even think about it," I warned, trying to brush him off. We'd had a rough few months and our attempt to repair the relationship with a "relaxing weekend away" had been a disaster. Nothing had been solved, only more disagreements and headaches. I'd prevented myself from exploding on him so far, but if he kept pushing, this would be the last straw.

"Didn't I tell you we would be late? To get up earlier, to stop messing around and hurry? And you didn't listen, just argued with me that it'd be fine. And now you're acting like you've done nothing wrong and…"

I stopped in the middle of the walkway and folded my arms. "Are we gonna do this right here?"

"Yesterday you promised to accept punishments again as long as I give you a warning, and today I've warned you multiple times…"

"I didn't agree that you could spank me in a fucking airport."

Our eyes locked in uneasy silence, neither ready to back down. Submission was tough for me in general, even with my first spanker, Harvey, who was actually able to tame me a bit (unlike anyone else who'd tried). Trevor and I had a good run during the first couple of years in our "domestic discipline" relationship, but lately, I couldn't convince myself that he was worth all the drama. Was it time to call it quits?

"If you'd stop arguing about everything…"

I threw my hands in the air. "Sure, blame it all on me like you always do. It's my fault, everything's ALWAYS my fault."

"I didn't say…"

"You know what, fuck off," I spat and turned to continue walking, but Trevor snatched up my wrist and tugged me towards him. "Let me go." I tried to twist myself from his grip, half-ignoring the voice in my head screaming that it's fucked up to break my promise to him. My adrenaline was triggered, though, which made it more challenging for me to give up control. Instead, it gave me the urge to swing my backpack at Trevor to break his hold on me and sprint away. Maybe I could run out of the airport, back to our crappy cheap motel and stay there, and never have to deal with any of those fuckers in NYC again. "Trevor… let go."

He kept a stoic look as he dragged me along in silence, reaching the family restroom. The door swung open, and he thrust me inside. He tossed our backpacks under the sink, locked the door and reached for my upper arm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I half-shouted. "You are NOT going to spank me, and especially not here. I'll scream."

"You've earned this. You deserve it for your sass and attitude all weekend." He propped his foot up on the toilet and lifted me over his knee with ease.

"I have not had sass and attitude all weekend, and I don't _deserve_ anything! Stop and let me down!" I felt unstable like I'd fall on the floor at any moment, so I opted against struggling for now, though I was ready to fight him for real.

"Be quiet," he ordered, flipping up my dress and tugging my panties down below my butt cheeks.

"Wait! Stop!" He delivered a few sharp swats to my bare bottom, surprising me with the intensity of his calloused hands. "What the fuck, I said stop!" I began trying to kick him, hoping that'd get him to back off a bit.

"Quit fighting and accept your punishment like a big girl," Trevor scolded, moving to swat my sit spots.

"Fuck! That hurts!" I was sweating from all the fighting and my anger was increasing, so as he peppered my bottom with his strong hand it stung ten times worse than normal! Then he made the mistake of wrapping his left arm around my chest to get a better grip so I wouldn't fall. And I should've been grateful he cared enough to prevent a head-dive into the ceramic tile, but instead, I was pissed that he was spanking me in the first place. So I got this genius idea to sink my teeth into his forearm, biting into the flesh with as much pressure as my jaw would allow.

He yelped and let his foot fall, releasing me. "Are you serious?"

My dress dropped to cover my aching bottom, and I tugged my panties back into position as he rubbed his arm that was now slightly bleeding. "Well, you shouldn't put your arm there, _pendejo_."

The vein on his forehead was popping out, jaw clenched. "I'm not sure what's with you lately." His voice was steady and even, which somehow made me more nervous than if he'd exploded. "You argue with everything I say, even when you know I'm right or it's about something insignificant. You're fighting just to fight. Whoever the hell you're angry with, stop taking it out on me. It's pushing me away."

With an eye roll, the words fell out: "Fuck off, you're always on my ass for no fucking reason and you're being a dick. So what, I made a mistake, get over it already!"

His mouth opened to argue, then it closed and he shook his head. "Maybe you should get your own flight. And I'll see you at home. Or not. I don't care anymore." He threw his backpack over his shoulder and tore the door open, not another word to me.

"Yeah, well, I don't care either!" My screaming was useless, though, because the door already slammed shut, so I punched the wall (and immediately regretted it). My eyes burned as I willed myself not to cry, swallowing the lump in my throat. _Fuck him. Breathe_ , I told myself. _Everything's fine, I'm okay._ I took a deep breath like I'd been taught in anger management, nostrils flaring and diaphragm expanded, then pushed the air out of my mouth. The second deep breath gave me a bit of a head-rush so I stumbled to the sink and splashed a little water on my face. The icy liquid felt good against my sweaty forehead and flushed cheeks, so I stayed like that, hunched over the sink, face buried in water-filled hands.

Damn, Trevor was right about me pushing him away. "You're such a fuck-up," I said to the purple-haired disaster in the mirror. Black mascara was smeared under my brown eyes and most of my pink lipstick had washed off. "Can't you do anything right?" I snatched a paper towel from the dispenser, dampening it and cleaning off the rest of my makeup. _Did Trevor just break up with me?_

The rage washed over me again, millions of thoughts bouncing around in my mind. _Fuck him! How is he gonna break up with me after I paid for his vacation? And leave me alone in the airport like this? Blaming me for every-fucking-thing_ … I snatched my backpack off the floor and dug around for my makeup bag, still yelling at him in my mind. As luck would have it, I stumbled upon his credit card, causing a wide grin to spread across my face. _I'll show him._

x-x-x-x

It was in the first-class lounge while sipping on a martini that I started to feel the pit of loneliness forming in my stomach. No amount of alcohol could keep my mind off Trevor, and I should've known that. There was no one interesting around to talk to as a distraction; the only other patrons were old corporate-types, white men in suits yammering into their Bluetooth headset. Watching them made me nauseated.

But I still needed to kill an hour and a half, so I called my best friend (and unofficial therapist), Donna.

"Hmmm, it sounds like you need to find a neutral third party to discipline you if things work out with Trevor," she answered after I explained the day's fiasco. Without giving me time to whine, Donna pondered the possibilities. "Who would you want it to be? Seeley would be so great for you, but I think his hands are full right now with his new roommate. And I dunno if it'd work with you and Jack, he's too much of a softie." Donna paused as she sucked in what I assumed to be a smoke cloud full of THC, then blew into the phone and started coughing.

"Yeah, and I stressed Jack out too much when he was tryin' to be my Dom." The liquor stung my lips as I took another sip, grimacing when the burning sensation slid down my throat. "Nowadays he's too good a friend to take the chance of hurting him again."

"Fair enough. You need someone more domineering…" Donna giggled. "What about Harvey? He would be perfect!"

A groan escaped my lips. My gut had already assumed Harvey would be the only person who could get me out of this funk. "Ummm… I don't even have his number anymore… we didn't exactly end on good terms, in case you forgot. And he's such a corporate douche, I don't want someone like that dominating me."

"Oh, _come on_ , you love money too much to hate the corporate douches like you say." I rolled my eyes at her correct observation. "At least talk to him before deciding. I'll text you his number."

"Fine," I grumbled. "What's Mike up to?"

"He's in Arizona covering the immigration stuff. What am I, your brother's keeper? Just because we live together doesn't mean I always know his whereabouts. And nice job changing the subject, by the way."

"Arizona?! What the fuck, why didn't he invite me! I wanna have a fun job and travel all the time… it's not fair."

There was a pause in conversation as Donna went into a coughing fit, then started giggling.

"Damn, I want some of what you're smoking. What's so fuckin' funny?" I rolled my eyes and took another sip of my martini.

She tried to speak but kept breaking off in giggles until finally coughing again and breathing. "Sorry. It's just that… You love your job! You get to help people in poverty and fight against the man and none of the lawyers give you shit anymore cuz you know more than all of them combined. You'd hate being a journalist and kissing ass like Mike does. I dunno why you suddenly think his job is… fun."

"Ugh, ooookay Dr. Donna… I'm just venting, geez."

"Ohhhh, sorry. I don't mean to be annoying, I'm high as fuck and sometimes it's hard to get out of therapist brain."

"No, it's fine, I'm in a mood. Maybe use your skills to tell me what to do about Trevor."

She giggled again. "You know what to do. Don't be impulsive. Think before reacting. Avoid jumping to conclusions. He hasn't officially broken up with you yet, so don't do anything stupid to jeopardize the relationship. We've had this conversation before… How long have you guys been together now? Three… four years?"

"Yeah, it's been exactly three years since I moved in with him. What a mistake." I downed the last sip of my martini and considered following Donna's advice since I did kinda ask for it and all. But the urge to order another drink with Trevor's credit card was stronger. And the biggest damage was the first-class ticket I'd bought anyway, so what was another few little drink charges? I'd been there for Trevor in his darkest moments, like when he was unemployed with no idea what to do in life. But what good had he ever done for me?

"If things are awkward when you get home, you can crash here. I have lots of weed. And wine. And Mike's bed is super comfy."

"Can I just come to live with you?" My eyes followed the bartender, a well-built Latino guy in his late 20s. He glanced in my direction and flashed me a smile, raising his eyebrows to see if I needed anything.

"Talk to Trevor first. And nothing stupid."

I raised my glass to signal a refill and licked my lips, which the bartender seemed to like.

"You're already doing something stupid, aren't you?"

"Don't ask questions you don't wanna know the answer to…"

Donna sighed. "Oh geez, you sound like Harvey. Be careful and don't forget to call him!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After fighting with Trevor, Violet contemplates having Harvey as a spanker again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU from the perspective of Violet, either an original character or a purple-haired, Mexican version of Rachel. Mike is her journalist brother. Harvey is her ex-spanker. Trevor is her boyfriend. Donna is her pothead psychotherapist best friend. Some Bones characters mentioned, but not enough to consider this a crossover yet.

After safely arriving back home, I pushed open the door to our apartment, stumbling inside because I was much drunker than planned. The alcohol had knocked out my conscience, which had been pestering me about how terrible of a person I am for stealing money from my boyfriend and then fucking the bartender in the storage closet. But thanks to martinis, I hadn't a care in the world.

Trevor was sitting in the living room staring into space, lame crime show playing in the background. "I texted you," I said.

He glanced at me, gave a slight smile before shaking his head. "You're drunk. I haven't even turned my phone on."

"Guess it's a good thing I'm not laid up in the hospital on my last breath waiting to hear from you."

"If we're going to do this, I'll also need a drink."

I shrugged. "Go ahead. You've made it clear you want nothing to do with me."

"That's not true," he insisted, powering on his device and standing. He walked towards me without looking at the screen. "Obviously I love you, Violet, or I wouldn't have put up with you all this time… since your dad died."

It was probably supposed to have helped me feel better, but my eyes narrowed in rage. "Don't bring him into this!" Before I could say more he grabbed my face and yanked me forward for a powerful kiss. I hadn't wanted it, yet his assertion of dominance made me soften and tingle. Suddenly I yearned for him to boss me around and spank me.  _ Why is my brain so bipolar?? _

As we pulled away, his brown eyes gazed at me. He loved my crazy personality. But why?

"You're getting a good spanking tonight," he said with a hint of humor in his voice. Then he glanced down at his phone and his entire expression changed. First, his eyebrow cocked in confusion and he moved the screen closer to get a better read. As the realization hit him, his nostrils flared, and he threw it aside, now pointing his finger inches from my nose. "You bought a two-thousand dollar plane ticket home?!" He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair, then folded his arms.

"Well, you said…"

"Don't turn this on me!!" His hand raised, and I suspected that he desired to slap me, which I wished he would. It'd give me an excuse to beat the shit out of him. But he'd never do that.

"If you hadn't…"

Pointing again he shouted, "DON'T TURN THIS SHIT AROUND ON ME!!"

"YOU LEFT ME AT THE FUCKING AIRPORT!!!"

"THAT DOESN'T JUSTIFY YOU STEALING $2000 FROM ME!" The screaming match would continue until Trevor backed down, and he knew it, so for once instead of trying to convince me to see his side, he just said, "Leave. I can't look at you right now."

Being kicked out was something I'd expected from the beginning. I was always evicted… first with my parents, next by my aunt and uncle, and later by Harvey… It was like my destiny. Either way, happening with Trevor still pissed me off because he'd constantly been the forgiving type, and for some reason, I'd trusted him to get over all of my fuck-ups as he'd promised. Even if it was an unrealistic promise. But at that moment, I was again on the adrenaline auto-pilot, and I shoved him hard, enough to make him stumble, but he didn't move or speak, just stood there with hands on his hips, waiting for me to leave.

"Fuck you," I said, slamming the front door and probably rattling the entire fourth floor of our building. I didn't have the patience to wait for the elevator so instead ran downstairs, then the 16 blocks to Donna's apartment. Nevermind that it was almost midnight on a Sunday. She would be awake.

My red-haired friend answered in green shamrock pj pants and a tank top, her hair in braided pigtails, aqua-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose. A skunky odor greeted me as she stepped aside to let me pass. "Didn't work out with Trevor?"

"Of course not."

We strolled in silence to her room, scent of weed getting stronger. I pushed aside her bead door to be greeted with chill music playing on her tv. The overhead light was on a soft green, giving the room a calm aura. It also got me craving drugs again. I'd only slipped up a few times in the last few years, but I knew with life being so lousy right now, if I fucked up I'd spiral to a dark place.

"You know what I'm going to say, don't you?" Donna asked when we were sitting across from each other on the floor, 16" standing glass bong between us. Her bloodshot eyes told me that she didn't need more weed, which caused a twinge of envy to pull at my gut. I wished to be as tranquil as my friend.

"You're gonna ask if I wanna glass of wine?"

She giggled. "No, I already know the answer to that, silly." A chilled red bottle was shoved into my hand, and she placed a fancy-ish glass in front of me. The wine was cheap and not my style, but it would do. At least it was something. As I began to open it, Donna continued. "I'm going to tell you to write Harvey. C'mon, what's stopping you?"

"Ummmm… last time I saw him he told me to lose his number and never contact him again."

"You've seen him since then."

"Yeah because you made it happen. He did it for you, not me." I popped the cork out and set it aside, tilting the wine bottle up and letting it pour into my glass.

"He also said he'll be there if you need him because you've always done the same for him."

I swirled the red liquid around in the glass before taking a sip, glaring at Donna. She was too high to notice it like that, though.

"VyVy… please. He can help." Her lower lip poked out, and she offered me the bong, green eyes filling up with tears.

"Fine. I'll message him," I answered, snatching the pipe from her, gently as possible. She was too excited about my response to care that I was being petty about it. "Just… ugh. It's gonna suck for a while."

"Yeah, it is."

I blew the smoke at her. "Thanks for your support."

"Well, you don't want me to lie, right?"

Instead of responding, I took another hit off her bong, eyeing the trippy music video on tv. My mind raced with images of Harvey.  _ What will he say to my message? Will he even respond? Will he consider being my Dom again? He's gonna beat my ass so much… Am I ready for that? _

By my third glass of wine, I decided I was, and opened up a blank text, composing several drafts before settling on one and holding my breath as I clicked send.

"You did it?!" Donna applauded and handed me the bong again to celebrate.

I could've obsessed over whether he'd answer, but left my phone in Donna's room and dragged her to Mike’s. We played video games and gossiped all night, singing along to 90s pop music, and of course, smoking weed. I toked more than I had in a while which alleviated a ton of stress. And sometime after 4:20am we passed out in giggles on my brother's heavenly bed, successfully escaped from reality, not a care in the world.

x-x-x-x

"Fuck! Donna! I missed work!" It was already half-past noon when I woke, bolting from the bed. I ran to Donna's room and found my phone. It was dead and refusing to turn on, even after I plugged it in, and felt like hours before my protest wallpaper photo popped up. I ignored the thousands of text messages (including one from Harvey) and checked my email. "Fuck fuck fuck…" I muttered seeing the disappointed words from my boss. He was not pleased that I didn't call or show up for work.

I didn't bother showering, just hurriedly dressed in some of Donna's clothes and hailed a cab to my office (thanks Trevor's credit card!). During my commute, I re-connected my phone to charge and responded to my boss's email:  _ Overslept, on my way now _ , then checked the message I'd received from Harvey, short and simple:  _ Let's set up a time to meet _ . I didn't have the chance to think of a response when the car pulled up to my workplace and I ran through the door with only apologies spilling from my mouth.

My boss and supervisor called me into the conference room. "It isn't the first time this has happened," my boss scolded as I sat across from the two balding white men.

"Our flight arrived later than expected, so we had a late night… I don't control plane delays."

"Always one for excuses," my supervisor muttered. He never liked me much. "And is that alcohol I smell on your breath?"

Lips pressed together I shot him a glare (also, fuck me for not chewing gum before work).

My boss sat up in his seat and frowned at me. "The point is that you missed the board meeting today, and we've done a good job emphasizing the importance of both your attendance and your presentation."

"I wanted to be there but…"

Instead of letting me ramble, the supervisor cut me off. "Your piece about social media and investigations was crucial to getting the funding for your position. Since you weren't there, the meeting was a disaster and frankly, the board isn't convinced we should continue to cover your salary."

"That's bullshit!" I looked back towards my boss in hopes he would tell me this was all a joke.

"I'm sorry, Violet, we tried to explain your importance, but unfortunately there was nothing we could do to convince them otherwise."

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. "W-what are you saying?" I stammered, clearing my throat to appear more confident, even though inside, I was panicking. "You can't fire me, that isn't fair! I've given so much to this clinic."

"It's not only this one occurrence," my boss began.

The asshole chimed in: "It's the law-breaking, the hair, the clothes… and I don't think they ever got over the Hernandez incident."

"Ughhh but that was months ago!" I groaned and slammed my fist against the conference table. "It wasn't even that big of a deal and ended up getting dropped!" It was also the last time I'd seen Harvey — he was the one who pulled the strings to get me off with only probation after I'd blackmailed the DA to free a sorta-innocent man, which had probably saved my job. Too bad they were firing me now.

"We know you will succeed wherever you end up. I'm happy to give you a glowing recommendation."

I glared at him, growing more irritated by the second. "Fuck you and your recommendations." Then I pushed myself up. "Anything else?" Without even waiting for their response, I turned and jerked the door open, letting it crash against the wall with a loud BAM!

The supervisor followed as I went to clean out my desk and turn in my keys, then I was left on the street corner with a half-empty cardboard box that held reminders of the last 3 years: photos of Trevor and me, my framed diploma in political science, a Zapatista flag my dad sent me from his hometown in Chiapas, Mexico, the handcuffs my co-worker had used to teach me how to pick a lock. There were newspaper clippings from the various protests I'd gone to, and one headline that read "Young Activist Reveals Truth About District Attorney." All these memories and hard work. All for nothing.

Tears threatened to spill, and I had a fierce headache from the stress and hangover. The idea of going back to Trevor's was making my stomach churn — he was already pissed, it was unlikely he'd offer sympathy for my getting fired, especially after our fight last night. In fact, I prepared myself for him to throw me out for good. Not like I was providing his life with anything positive.

The thought of being homeless bummed me out, and my energy wasn't sufficient to deal with public transit, so I took a cab home, spending more money that I didn't have (at least I used my own credit card that time). It gave me a few minutes to message Mike to ask if I could stay in his room while he was away. No way I'd be able to afford a place alone yet.

As I sent the text to my brother, my taxi pulled up to the apartment building. It only took a minute to swipe my credit card, and I climbed out to see Trevor also arriving, but on foot.  _ Shit, just my luck! _ I tried to turn so he wouldn't notice me, but obviously, that didn't work. He shot me the meanest look and sneered, "Did I pay for that ride, too? Or did you suddenly run into a large sum of money and…" He broke off as he noticed the box in my arms. "Fired?" then shook his head with a sarcastic laugh and turned to storm towards the building door.

"Jace, wait!" I rushed after him but he ignored me, fumbling with his keys and so angry that he missed the lock when trying to jam them inside. "I overslept, my phone died."

The lock finally popped, and he shoved the glass door open, not bothering to hold it for me. "Excuses," he muttered.

"Grrrrrrr! Not excuses, facts." I needed to jog to keep up with him, his legs much longer than mine and he was so angry that his pace was twice normal speed. "I didn't sleep well last night, you were mad at me."

He shook his head, taking the stairs two at a time.

"Would you fucking slow down and listen to me!" I screeched, stomping my foot.

He still ignored me, already to the third floor when I was only reaching the second. Fuck. I hadn't considered that I'd have the box while walking, and the extra weight tired me out quicker than normal.

Trevor was long inside the apartment when I arrived. In fact, he was in our room, standing there with my suitcase lying on the bed, wide open. "You need to leave," he said simply. "We're done."

Mouth dropped, I stared at the empty luggage, millions of emotions flowing through me. I'd known it was coming but had been in denial until that moment. "Are you serious?!" I shouted. "How can you do this to me? What the fuck did I ever do to you besides give you EVERYTHING? And to dump me when I'm at my weakest? Aren't we supposed to be there for each other? How dare you! Fuck you!" I stormed towards my dresser, banging open the drawers. "Damn right we're done," I hissed. I tore my clothes out, dunking them into the suitcase in a chaotic mess, continuing to shout at him how I felt about this break-up. I didn't even bother packing it all because if I stayed in that apartment much longer I'd end up bashing Trevor's face in.

When we finished, I stood on the street corner (again) with my panda backpack over my shoulders, two gigantic suitcases in tow, mascara running. Fuck. All I wanted was some blow. There was no use fighting the urge. Fuck this life. Fuck these people. Fuck everything. No job, no money, no boyfriend. Just me. And I hated me.

Third taxi of the day carried me back to Donna and Mike’s place as the sun was setting. I used the spare key they'd given me, opening the door to an eerily quiet apartment. After I stowed away my shit in Mike’s room, I dug through Donna's room for her weed stash. I couldn't deal with all the shit on my mind at that moment, especially with nobody there to keep me from overthinking. So I smoked a joint, then showered and changed into fresh clothes.

I tried to settle into Mike’s recliner to play video games, but my brain was racing, getting me killed every few minutes. I needed to be around people… this alone time wasn’t doing me any good.

_ Maybe I can check out my old neighborhood bar... Maybe I'll see a familiar face. Maybe someone will sell me coke. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The break-up and job loss have Violet spiraling out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanking story, M/F spanking fantasy, BDSM themes, drug use.
> 
> This is an AU from the perspective of Violet, either an original character or a purple-haired, Mexican version of Rachel. Mike is her journalist brother. Harvey is her ex-spanker. Trevor is her boyfriend. Donna is her pothead psychotherapist best friend. Logan is her ex-boyfriend. Some Bones characters mentioned, but not enough to consider this a crossover yet.

_ Dominic's Bar _ sat on top of a restaurant and had a long, narrow set of metal stairs outside, leading down to a crowd of wannabe gangsters who stood against the wall, smoking cigarettes and talking shit. My nose itched with excitement as I walked up to them, hands in my pockets, a little high from Donna's weed and sweaty from the speedy walk.

"Violet Esperanza," one of the thugs said with a Spanish accent. We locked eyes and I realized it was my no-good ex-boyfriend, Logan. Just who I'd expected.

"Logan Sanders." The name made me want to hurl. "We haven't seen each other since I returned that kilo I stole from you."

The men in his group laughed. No doubt they would berate him about it later. "What brings you back to our side of the tracks? You musta dumped that white boy cuz I know he wouldn't give your ass permission to hang out in the hood."

I rolled my eyes. "Fuck off. As if I'd let that prick boss me around like that."

"Oh, I see how it is.  _ He _ broke up with  _ you _ ." My eyes narrowed, and he laughed in my face, so much that I grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him up against the wall.

"You shut your fuckin' mouth, bro, or I'll knock your teeth out."

He choked on laughter, only shutting up when I raised a fist, ready to punch him. "Okay, okay, chill woman!" His hands lifted to shield his head and I smirked, glad he still feared me.

"I need you to give me two grams on credit," I said in a low voice.

"What makes you think I'd do that?"

"Cuz you owe me. And I'll pay you tomorrow."

"Fine, but give me some space," Logan responded, shoving me. I released my grip so he could retrieve the little baggies of white powder from his pocket. Then, licking my lips, I reached forward, but Logan snatched the drugs away, hiding them behind his back. "You've burned me before, Esperanza."

"That was then. Things are different now."

He seemed doubtful but gave in, tucking the ziplocks in my palm. I plucked the cigarette from between his fingers and took a puff off it, smiled and walked away.

"You're welcome!" he called after me, and I responded with my middle finger.

Up the stairs and through the heavy glass door, I was hit with a greasy, liquor-filled stench. The decor hadn't been updated since I first started going there as an under-aged delinquent. But the crowd seemed much more mixed nowadays, patrons ranging from fake ID age to mid-40s.

I went to the bar and ordered a mojito, looking around for a recognizable face. With the glass in my hand, I drifted towards the back of the room where an illegal poker game was going on. There's where my people were at.

"VIOLET!!" It was my BFF of all time, Jenny. She had been sitting on her boyfriend's lap as he gambled, but upon my arrival ran up and tackled me in a hug, noticeably drunk. "You haven't come out in forever! We missed you!"

As I gazed around the table, I doubted anyone besides Jenny had felt bad about my absence. "Deal me in," I demanded, plopping down with my drink and throwing in a few dollars.

I played poker for hours, working on emptying one of the baggies while I kicked everyone's ass at Texas Hold 'em. Drunk Jenny acted as waitress, rambling about the old days between bringing everyone booze.

"And that time you saved your red-haired friend… what's her name? Donna!" Her head tossed back in laughter, enjoying the nostalgia. She turned to her boyfriend. "That's the kinda friend this bitch is. Donna came to pick us up from a dope party on Long Island after we were stranded by Logan's punk ass. She was high as fuck and crashed some BMW. Donna was freakin' out but Violet just straight up took the blame, no questions asked, got hauled off to the slammer. Your lawyer buddy saved you from that, right? Harvey?"

Without responding, I glanced at my opponents. "I'm all in," I exclaimed, pushing the mountain of poker chips to the pot. Only two people were still in the game with me, and neither would guess I was bluffing. With my smirk and confident pose, these guys assumed I had a great hand, both folding instead of matching my bet. I threw the cards to the dealer and hugged my pile of money.

Cashing out, I beckoned Jenny to have a smoke with me. "Damn, sis, you gotta find a new job," she exclaimed after I told her of the day's events. "Trust me, you don't wanna live with your bro forever. I'm still stuck with mine and they're drivin' me nuts."

"What am I gonna do, though?" I took a long drag off my cigarette, pondering for a moment.

"Get back into dealing. Logan's lookin' for someone, and you prolly got enough customers already… you know, from high school." She blew smoke out of her nose, lost in thought. "And it's not like anything would happen if you're caught cuz you got connects. You must have a shit ton of friends in that biz now."

I shrugged, glancing at Logan and his meathead 'bodyguards' who stood near the corner, sipping on liquor out of a brown paper bag. There was a wad of money in my pocket waiting to give him a down payment. Selling could be a quick way to make cash, pay off debts, save enough for a deposit on an apartment, and hold me over until I got a new job.

Without consciously realizing it, I strolled up to my ex-boyfriend and tapped him on the shoulder, asking to do business with his gang. He didn't trust me at all, throwing out a belligerent cackle at first, but when I thrust the money towards him, we were suddenly on our way to his place for my supply.

A short two blocks from the bar, Logan's apartment greeted me with the familiar aroma of beer + weed + El Salvadorian food. It brought me back to my teenage years when I was head over heels for the badass, drug-dealing musician, blinded by his charm and good looks. Now I could see his true colors: a dead-beat wannabe gangbanger, covered in tasteless tattoos and oily hair, still living with his parents.  _ Thank you, Harvey, for helping me escape this pitiful relationship. _

"Are you remembering the last time you were here and we fucked on that couch?" He chuckled and placed his hands on my hips, pulling me forward so I was against him, erection poking my thigh.

"Ew, get off," I said as he tried to give me a slobbery kiss.

He gripped my arms, giving me a cutting scowl. "You sure you ain't plannin' to fuck me over again?"

"I already gave you half the dough, so get the fuck off me and let's get a move on."

Shaking his head, Logan half-grinned, fingers tightening around my bicep. "You still like it rough, bad girl?"

"What do you think?" I sneered, elbowing him away.

"You want the product, you're gonna have to submit to me tonight."

"Barf. What makes you assume I'd want your nasty cock?"

He lurched forward, hand now grasping my throat. "You know you want it," he cooed. "But that's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"Fine," I spat. No matter how much I'd taught him about the BDSM lifestyle, Logan didn't get it, and tonight there was no time to explain the difference between a bratty spanko and a submissive. I just wanted this to be over.

Logan yanked me to his room and ordered me to undress while he searched in a drawer for rope. I silently obeyed, drunkenness numbing the thoughts of how absurd this was. I decided to give him a show, shaking my hips as I eased my pants down, whipping them off. It was hard to keep from laughing as I did the same with my shirt, finally insisting he put on music. 

Rhythmic, hammering drums filled the painful silence, accompanied by violent guitars. When the melody started, Logan crept up to my naked body, wrapping the nylon around my wrists. "You never did this when we were dating," I said, resisting the urge to correct his shabby attempt at restraining me.

"I've learned a thing or two since then." But he had understood little, because he just circled the rope around and around again, not even securing it.

"If we're doing this, I'm gonna need another line."

Stopping for a moment, Logan mulled over my suggestion, finally obliging me. He held the rolled-up dollar bill to my nose and I inhaled.  _ Here goes nothing. _

Seconds later, he tossed me on the bed like a sack of potatoes. The rope was unwinding, and his flogger was painless. I didn't bother pretending like the scene was interesting, choosing instead to daydream about Harvey. 

_ "What are you doing fucking around with this kid again?" He saunters towards me in a fancy, freshly ironed pinstripe suit, one-hundred percent sober and in control of himself. With furrowed brows he bellows, "Didn't I tell you to steer clear? Do I need to remind you what happens to disobedient little brats?" _

_ "Fuck off, you piece of shit!" I respond, flipping him off.  _

_ When Harvey charges towards me, I fight, spitting excuses and cruel words until he's tired of my mouth. He tugs on a fistful of my hair so I must look him in the face. "You're going to end up in jail again, and this time we may not get you off the hook." His hazel eyes are serious, threatening. "Stop fucking around." _

_ I'm not scared of him. "I don't care!"  _

_ My shouting provokes a growl, and I expect the mild slap across my face. "You DO care, or I wouldn't be here right now."  _

_ I reach up to return a punch, but he catches my wrist and spins me around, pushing me onto the bed and holding my hands behind my back. He ties me up with ease, so tight that I'm unable to wriggle free.  _

_ "This punk is bad news and you know it. Don't go down the path of self-destruction again." Harvey rips off my clothes and drags me kicking and screaming over his lap, tuning out my arguments. "If I have to, I'll beat you till the urge to do stupid shit passes." I stare at the hardwood floor as the thick tawse crashes on my bare butt with a loud  _ THUD! _ that hurts more than all of Trevor's spankings combined. My shrill cry only indulges him to continue, realizing how easy it will be to break me. "Are you really going to throw away everything you've worked for? GED, college, the hours you dedicated to the legal clinic... all down the drain because of a stupid man?"  _

_ Squirming to dodge swats, I yelp, "Fuck Trevor! He means nothing!" I want to bust out of the shackles, but Harvey's clutch on me is too strong. The more I resist, the heavier the lashes fall. My ass is throbbing, only slightly relieved when he focuses on my thighs for a moment, thrashing the leather against my tender skin.  _

_ "Obviously he means something, or you wouldn't let this dim-witted hoodlum fuck you."  _

_ "I'll do whatever I want!" I'm offended, kicking and trying to shimmy off his lap, but he won't release me. My ass is maroon but I keep struggling, refusing to let him win. _

_ "Why would you want to fuck such a foul-smelling creature? You're better than this." _

_ A tear trickles down my cheek. What the fuck is wrong with me? _

"Did I, uh, make you cry?" The daydream disappeared as Logan came into my view, panting in delight now that he had finished using me.

Clearing my throat, I broke free from his "restraints" and wiped my eyes. "Allergies," I muttered, reaching for my clothes and re-dressing. He tossed a plastic shopping bag of drugs at me, which I deposited in my handbag, not bothering to hide it. 

"Don't fuck me over, Esperanza. We're not a gang of lil kids anymore. You're fuckin' with the big boys now." I followed his eyes to the opened drawer, shiny pistol tucked away inside. "Steal from me again, it'll be more than just a beating."

x-x-x-x

The night, summer air was sticky as I walked through the busy streets of Queens, ignoring the schizophrenic homeless people who shouted at me for money every few blocks. My brain raced, thinking about the drugs, feeling ashamed and dirty for the way I'd started the next phase of my life. Donna would call it a self-fulfilling prophecy — since I believed I'd never be more than a slutty drug dealer, I sabotaged myself until the belief came true. But somehow I kept finding justification for my behavior: needing the money, euphoria would motivate me to apply for real jobs, I'd stop as soon as I was making a steady income again.

_ How about finding excuses against your bad behavior? _ Jack had suggested to me once. And since I had a long walk, I tried to make a list in my head:

_ Mike and Donna prefer I stay with them rather than get back into this lifestyle (but what they don't know won't hurt them). _ _   
_ _ Logan's in a real gang now (but I can handle those fuckers). _ _   
_ _ Generic reasons like it's dangerous and illegal (but I'm too anarchist to care). _ _   
_ _ This isn't working… _ _   
_ __ Harvey would beat the shit out of me if he knew what I'm doing.

The last thought prompted me to stop in the middle of the block, debating if I should text Harvey back since he was on my mind so much. I stared mesmerized at flashing lights from a police car as I pondered, only snapping to consciousness when I heard two cops harassing a Mexican guy.

"Well, Cesar? What else have you been doing while out here drunk? Did you rob the bodega on 30th Ave?" the tall olive-skinned cop shouted as the shorter Asian scribbled something in his ticket pad. "Where’s your green card? I'll bet you don't even have one."

"No,  _ señor _ ," the man responded, head shaking in nervous drunkenness at the idea of deportation.

Before the cop could speak again, I ran towards the trio. "Hey! You don't have to answer them!  _ Usted no tiene que contestarles! _ " As I approached, I stood up straight, looking at the cops with my arms folded. "You can't ask about his citizenship status."

"And who do you think you are?"

Luckily, I had a business card (hidden under the felony amount of drugs in my bag) and effortlessly reached for it, shoving the paper in the officer's hand. "I'm an immigrant rights activist, and I'd like to know if you're arresting my client or if he's free to go?"

"Your client? You've just met this man!" The pair looked at the drunkard, then at each other, unsure how to proceed.

"Did you bother reading his rights? Even if you did, I could still call my good friend Captain Johnson of the 114th precinct about how you neglected to provide translation services when your perp obviously doesn't understand what's going on." I retrieved my phone, watching the cops out of the corner of my eye as I pulled up favorite contacts. Clicking on the captain's name and photo, my phone screen flashed at the officers.

"That won't be necessary," said the shorter cop, ripping a ticket off his pad and handing it to Cesar. "Explain to your 'client' that it's a disturbing the peace charge for being drunk and disorderly in public. The bar kicked him out over an hour ago and we've received complaints about him yelling on the phone and starting fights with patrons in the outside smoking area. If we're called again, he'll be under arrest."

An impressed smile formed on my lips and I stayed in work-mode, shaking each douchebag's hand as they left, then turning back to Cesar who stood there with a dumbfounded expression. It only took me a minute to explain the ticket, and after, I commanded him to go home, even going the extra mile to order him an Uber.

"Thank you,  _ señorita _ ," he said with a thick accent, switching easily between languages. "I can't be  _ deportado _ . My family. My kids." He held out his scratched-up phone, pointing at the background photo of three young children, toothless grins reminding me of the commercials to help babies in third world countries. "I miss them. They need me to make money.  _ Pero no puedo dejar el vicio. _ " But I can't let go of my addiction.

_ Me either, bro _ , I thought, swallowing those emotions. "What part of Mexico?"

"Oaxaca." When my eyebrows raised, he continued. " _ Lo conoces _ ?"

"My mom is from there, the city. But I've never been."

" _ Muy bien! Somos primos! _ You must visit one day." He opened a blank text message and started typing something out, just as his driver pulled up. "Please, your number." The device fell into my hands and I read the message draft:  _ si necesitas un favor, llamame — Cesar de Oaxaca. _

For a moment I considered that he was too drunk to remember me in the morning, much less if the favor I needed was years from now. But you can never have too many allies, so I typed my number in for my new cousin, pressing send and tossing the phone back.

"Be safe!" he called after me, ducking into the black Nissan.

I stood on the sidewalk for another few minutes, finishing my cigarette as I remembered the grinning girl on Cesar's phone wallpaper. Why do parents insist money is the only necessity? I'd heard the same sob story thousands of times at work — "we had no choice, we have to provide for our children." But at what cost? Not getting to be there for special occasions like birthdays and graduations, or even missing normal moments like dinners and telenovelas. At least if you're suffering together, you'll have each other. But loneliness… that's what fuels the addictions.

Maybe being deported would've been a better option for Cesar than helping him get off with a ticket. But after the government destroyed my family, I only cared about fucking the system.

x-x-x-x

Donna was already sleeping when I arrived home and started my second gram. My mind raced with ideas of what to do with my life while I shot zombies in a post-apocalyptic universe.

_ Do I want to find another job? Or is it time to go back to school? Am I smart enough? What would I even study? _

None of my questions mattered at the moment as I was more fixated on beating Mike’s high scores. So much that I didn't notice the sunrise, nor the next few hours that passed until around 11am when Donna casually interrupted my game on her way to shower.

"Harvey asked about you. He said you never wrote back."

I grunted in response, trying not to listen, too focused on shooting.

"He wants your help with something work-related."

Pausing the game, I glared at her. "Did you tell him I got fired?"

She didn't respond to my question. "He said that your 'outside-the-box thinking' would help figure out one of his cases."

I groaned and went back to playing my game. "Harvey can fuck off," I muttered.

"VyVy, come on, you can't solve this with drunken nights and video games, you've gotta get back out there." I ignored her, attention solely on killing zombies. "I know things are shitty, but they'll get better when you get into the swing of things again. Working... Taking care of yourself... Staying sober..." She didn't seem to realize how impossible it was for me to do that. "What you're doing right now isn't helpful."

Her words coincided with me getting shot and killed in my game. I groaned and glared at her. "Honestly, you can also fuck off."

I should've been nice to her. Donna had helped me a lot in the eight years we'd known each other and had been a better friend than I could've ever dreamt of. But at that moment I was too broken to care. And Donna was too nice to make me feel guilty. Instead, she turned and left.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe Violet's spanko friends can convince her to finally get out of the house for some good, clean fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an AU from the perspective of Violet, either an original character or a purple-haired, Mexican version of Rachel. Mike is her journalist brother. Harvey is her ex-spanker. Donna is her pothead psychotherapist best friend. Trevor and Logan are her ex-boyfriends. Seeley and Jack are characters from Bones, but I won't make this an actual crossover as they are not important to Violet/Rachel's story.

That first line of powder felt better than even the first time, and once I opened the door to my old lifestyle, there was no stopping it from consuming me. Two years of almost-sobriety didn't matter anymore. Life without drugs was boring and depressing, and the club scene held excitement! And what's the point of life if you're not having fun?

Days passed, blending together because I lived in a substance-induced fantasy land. Despite being back into dealing, my bank account was dry and credit cards maxed, because I spent earnings on drugs and gambling. Applying for real jobs was at the top of my to-do list, but I hadn't bothered opening my laptop since taking over my brother's room. Instead, I ordered takeout with my ex-company's credit card and played video games until loneliness persuaded me to go out, and always ended up back at the bar. It became a vicious cycle: Party all night, sleep all day, hate self all afternoon, party, sleep, repeat.

My body and conscience begged me to stop, along with the people who (for some reason) cared about me. Donna was asking questions. Mike was calling me numerous times each day. I had hundreds of unread messages. I just couldn't deal with their disappointment, it was much easier to avoid everyone.

One morning I staggered home at sunrise after an especially rough night. I'd lost a lot of money, drank and snorted too much, and was a fucking mess. Numbness spread throughout my body and unlocking the front door was a 10-minute challenge. As I stumbled to Mike's room I smiled thinking, _at least nobody will see me like this_.

I kicked the bedroom door open, orange sun rays from the half-open shades nearly blinding me. Careful not to make too much noise, I began undressing, putting all my energy into maintaining balance. My jeans and shirt were tossed aside when I turned to the bed and saw a stubbled face sound asleep on my pillow; it was Jack, clothed in khakis and an undershirt, mouth wide open, drool seeping down his chin. A half-snore echoed through the room as I threw my bra aside.

_Well, this is awkward._

Whatever. I was too fucked up to care. Sorta.

The room spun and my stomach twisted in knots, threatening to send everything I'd eaten that day back up (not that I'd eaten much). Partly it was the amount of alcohol I'd consumed, partly anxiety from the debt I'd racked up. Mostly it was because Jack's presence was a sign that I'd gone too far.

I didn't bother putting any clothes on as I climbed into bed and tugged at the blanket under my ex-Dom, forcing him to stir.

"What time is it?" he muttered without opening an eye. I wondered if he remembered where he was.

Instead of answering I snuggled up into the blanket, admiring the cool cotton against my naked skin. It felt weird to have another warm body in the bed with me, especially when he threw an arm over my stomach.

"You were out late, _Violeta_." He said my name properly, just as my parents would have. It sent a chill down my spine. "Donna thinks you need an intervention."

"Donna needs to mind her own goddamn business. Go back to sleep. Don't lecture me in the middle of the night or I'll start fucking you until you're speechless."

He groaned and swatted my hip, rolling back over, no longer interested in cuddling. "Goodnight, brat."

"Goodnight, Sir."

A few hours later, my friends ripped open the shades and pulled off my blanket, leaving me there exposed in only my panties. Donna bounced on the bed behind me, shaking me a little, much to my disapproval. "C'mon, Violet, you've gotta get sunlight or you'll never get out of your depression. Don't make me call Harvey to deal with you."

"I'm not in a fucking depression, go away. I'll talk to Harvey when I'm ready." I pulled the pillow over my head to block everything out, but she's persistent and had Jack as a wingman. He snatched away my pillow and Donna hopped over me, now only inches from my face.

"Come play with us… you love paintball!" She bounced again, but being so close to me, ended up knocking me in the forehead.

"What the fuck!" I growled and opened my eyes. She giggled now, rubbing her head and not concerned with my grumpy mood. "I said to go away, won't you fucking listen?"

Suddenly her mood dropped and tears started welling up in her big green eyes. An exaggerated frown spread across her face. "I just wanna play." Her voice was low and whiney, like a little kid.

I groaned and rolled over to glance at Jack, trying to get a little help since my brain wasn't fully functioning and I had a bitchin' headache from the hangover. But Jack just shrugged at me and I realized that I had a different question for him. "What are you even doing here?"

"We're going paintballing."

Hearing it for the second time, I noticed the pinch of excitement in my heart. It was subtle, but more than I'd felt at the idea of anything in the last few days. And I'd been brushing up on my first-person-shooter games. Paintball would be more exciting than gaming all day, _and_ most likely I'd win which would perk up my mood. But if I was going to do it, I'd need something to help me wake up.

"You're thinking about it… she's thinking about it!" Donna enthused. "Coooooome! I'll even pay for your ammo and stuff."

"Fine, I'll go. But please leave so I can get dressed in peace! Doesn't anybody know the meaning of privacy?" I playfully pushed her away.

"No privacy in this apartment!" She gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek and giggled, then skipped away. Jack moved a little slower but returned my blanket and pillow, finally.

"She's worried about you."

"I've heard, but I'm fine," I assured him, choosing now to be modest and cover myself a little.

"You're going through a lot, I get why she's worried. Can I help with anything?"

"Help by leaving. And believe me when I say I'm fine."

He raised his eyebrows in doubt. "I'll believe you're fine when you show us."

Before I could respond, Jack walked out, closing the door behind him. It felt like he'd told me, "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed." He was totally that type of Dom.

Instead of ruminating, I pushed myself out of bed and glanced around the room for something to wear. My suitcase laid in the middle of the floor, empty… I'd already worn everything comfortable and hadn't bothered doing laundry since moving in. At least Mike had plenty of clothes I could use, even if they fit a little big.

I swam through the pile of takeout containers on the floor towards my brother's dresser, pulling out his navy swim trunks and a band T-shirt with the sleeves cut out that he'd owned since high school. After dressing myself I walked to the mirror. My rat's nest mess of hair was too tangly to bother brushing, so I swooped it into a ponytail and grabbed my ratty Yankee's cap. I'd have to wash it after paintball, anyway. Taking one final glance at myself, I noticed how much weight I'd lost. My collar bone stuck out, and I looked paler than normal. _I guess that's why Donna said I need more sun._

Grabbing my raggedy cheap running shoes, I headed to the recliner in front of Mike's dresser and TV. As I sat and started putting on my socks, I remembered the unopened little baggy of white powder. I'd snagged the last two from my dealing-bag before going out last night, but had wanted to save one for later. Well, now was later, right?

"Violet! Are you ready yet? Seeley will be here with the car in five minutes!"

For a second I wondered why we would take an Uber to paintball, but then realized that Seeley wasn't a chauffeur, rather, Donna's Dom friend who's also an FBI Agent. Ugh. I didn't like him.

"Be there in a minute!" The friends we would play with hadn't crossed my mind because most of Donna's friends are the hippie type which are annoying but I can stand them. Seeley, on the other hand. I'd need to take the whole bag with me to deal with him. And a pack of cigarettes.

x-x-x-x

After inhaling two lines of powder, I stuffed the ziplock into the tiny inside pocket of the shorts, grabbed my handbag and swung the door open. "I'm going out for a smoke. Will meet you guys outside." The rubbery taste coated the back of my throat and I savored it for a moment as I ran downstairs. My brain was waking up, pupils dilating, heart racing. Before opening the front door of the building, I pulled out my sunglasses and a pack of smokes.

I was leaning against the brick wall, lit cigarette between my lips, brain racing in maybe an unhealthy way, when the black 2018 Suburban pulled up. I wanted to hide under my cap and sunglasses, but was no longer in control of my body, only acting on impulse.

"Hey! Seeley! How's it goin', bro?" Without realizing I'd even been walking, somehow I'd arrived at the passenger's side window, tempted to throw my arms in to give him a hug even though I had a cigarette that he probably didn't want stinking up his almost-brand-new truck.

He took his sunglasses off and flashed me a pearly white smile. "Hey Violet, it's been a while. Good to see you again." His hand thrust towards me for a handshake, so I did, only then noticing a girl sitting right in front of me in the passenger's seat. How had I missed her before?

Sniffling, I said, "Whoa, where d'you come from? Oh my god, your hair is goddess-like." I reached for the soft brown tufts on her shoulders and brought them to my nose for a whiff of peachy goodness. "Woooow, so soft, what conditioner do you use? Share that shit with me. I'm Violet."

Her big blue eyes gazed up at me as she placed her perfectly manicured fingers in mine, barely gripping me in the handshake. She told me her name, too, but I couldn't hear it with all the noise going on outside and in my brain. Sounded like Dana.

"I needta grab water from the corner store — want anything?"

"I'll go with you!" Dana said enthusiastically, propelling the door open so forcefully that I almost fell back.

"Here, get enough for everyone," said Seeley, throwing two $10 bills in our direction.

Dana took the cash and hopped out, following me down the sidewalk at a safe distance. I felt skeptical about talking to her at first, being that she's one of Seeley's friends. He's a tight-ass with law enforcement affiliation, so I imagined her to be a similar rule-follower. That's why I didn't bother with small talk as we walked, instead checking my text messages. I'd been ignoring them lately, and as I scrolled through, I remembered why: mostly bill collectors. And Logan threatening me if I didn't pay up what I owed. Ugh. What a downer.

When we rounded the corner, Dana caught up to me and cleared her throat. "Can I have a cigarette?"

Glancing in her direction, I snickered a bit. "Sergeant Douche has you on a smoking ban, huh? Is he gonna beat your ass for this?"

"Not if he doesn't find out," she retorted quickly, evil grin spreading on her lips.

Stopping in front of the bodega, I took the pack of Camels from my handbag, flipping a cancer stick out. Her cherry red lips formed a perfect O and she popped the cigarette inside, glancing up at me to light it for her. The flame flickered on, dancing in the wind until she leaned forward, inhaling.

I puffed on my own cigarette, considering that I'd not have any bill collectors on my ass if I had someone like Seeley in my life. But you only live once and I didn't want to waste my time worrying about money. "There's a reason I haven't gotten a Dom yet… I'm not ready to quit any of my shit."

Dana chuckled. "I don't blame you. Seeley's been on me lately for everything." She shook her head, taking a long drag off the cigarette, then flicking the ashes away. "I've missed this taste."

"How long ago did you quit?"

"Like a week and a half. And I'm ready to kill everyone."

"I know that feeling," I muttered, now finished and throwing my cigarette butt to the ground, stubbing it out. "How about you give me that $20 and I'll get our drinks."

Her eyebrows raised. "You're not really planning on buying it, are you?" When I didn't answer, just stared at her, she continued. "At least let me distract the cashier for you. The last thing I need is Seeley ripping me a new one for not being loyal or some bullshit."

My initial response was a laugh. "Ha! I think you just want in on the adrenaline."

Her milky cheeks suddenly turned crimson, as if I'd caught her jerking off. "And what if I do?"

I shrugged. "Then I guess we can arrange that."

Dana finished the last of her cigarette then passed me half of the money. I went to the back of the store stashing away a few bottles in my handbag while she talked to the man behind the counter, flirting with him. It really wasn't a foolproof plan, but I was too high to care, and we got away with it. At least it gave us a good laugh as we ran out.

We were still giggling about how easy it was to steal when we turned the corner and saw everyone in the truck already. I considered another cigarette, but Donna sat in the front passenger's side seat waving us over, ready to go. Then I saw that the spaces behind Donna were also full — with Jack and his latest sub, a blonde-haired college girl named Katrina.

"Sorry, you snooze you lose!" Her shrill laughter poked at my nerves, almost enough to make me turn around and go home.

"There's a seat in the very back," said Seeley, motioning with his thumb.

Katrina didn't move an inch, so I purposely stepped on her toes as I climbed to the trunk, causing her to squeal, and sat with a huff. "Donna and Katrina should be back here since they're smallest, that's what makes the most sense! And you're welcome for the water." I grabbed a few bottles out of my handbag and tossed them to the floor between Jack and Katrina, then folded my arms.

"Thank youuuuuu!" the girls shrieked.

I rolled my eyes. "There are too many chicks here for a real game of paintball."

"Hey don't hate till you've seen me play, girlie," Katrina said, tilting her head back to cackle as Dana climbed in next to me. "Naw I'm kiddin', I know I'm gonna lose." She playfully smacked Jack on the arm, giving him a flirtatious glance that made me want to gag.

"You are not cute," I muttered under my breath making Dana snort.

Peering at us through the rearview mirror, Seeley bellowed, "Everyone ready?"

Katrina slammed the back door shut and fastened her seatbelt, giving a thumbs up. "Yup, we're ready!"

My eyes rolled again and I leaned back, folding my arms. Now was my last chance if I wanted to bail out.

"This car isn't moving until everyone's buckled in." That was Seeley, directed at me. "And Dana, I can smell the smoke from here, which I'll deal with when we get home."

"Stop actin' like such a dad! I'm pretty sure that's me," I said, shoving the seat belt in before grumbling, "such a mood killer."

"Well, maybe I can deal with you, too, for giving her one." Seeley turned all the way around to give me a playfully serious look, which made me laugh.

"You're trippin', bro."

He shook his head and turned back around, pulling out of the parking spot.

"Ugh, God, he's so annoying. How can you stand him?" I muttered to Dana.

Lips pressed together, she allowed herself a half-smile while she considered my question. It took her a minute to answer, and her voice was so low I almost missed it. "He's annoying, but doesn't give up on me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paintball with spanko friends. Nothing could go wrong… right?

The ride to Long Island was boring as fuck and I was restless, wanting to get my negative energy out. Katrina monopolized the conversation in the back, asking tons of questions to everyone, though I was the only one who didn't answer, sneering instead. I didn't care to entertain her antics.

At some point Donna cackled in the front seat, causing Katrina to stop talking and start prying into what was so humorous.

"Bro, she's a pothead, everything's funny," I muttered.

But Katrina insisted, and eventually Seeley agreed to share his dirty little secret. "She's amused because I told her I'm a spanking newbie. I'm not very active in the lifestyle like you all."

"Really? I would've expected you to be more into it because you're like, older."

"Rude!" I said loudly to Katrina. "He's not old, he's 30! Just cuz you're a kid don't go judgin' others as old."

"And age doesn't equal experience," Dana said with a shrug.

Katrina looked back at her. "So do you, like, have lots of experience? 'Cause you look young like me," she said, pointing at herself with a smile.

"It's nothing to do with age," Seeley said firmly, glancing back at us through the rearview mirror. "Part of it is the need to keep a low-profile for work. But also, I'm a Middle Eastern man in the US. To find a spankee is hard enough, but add being a brown-skinned Muslim on top of it and most of them disappear."

I clicked my tongue in playful disagreement. "Plus, you're bossy as fuck, which doesn't help."

"Sure it does. Most women aren't too stubborn to take solid advice."

Before I could start an argument with him, Katrina interjected. "So how many girls have you spanked?!"

"Two."

"And we're both in this car!" Donna shrieked, causing all eyes (besides Seeley's) to focus on Dana.

"Wait... that's all?... Awwww! That's cute! You're a noob!"

Donna and Katrina giggled together about it for a few seconds causing me to sigh and hide in my corner, sneaking another bump.

"You're so quiet, Jack!" Katrina said, slapping him on the shoulder. "I know you're not a noob, though. You have extensive experience." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Barf, get a room," I murmured.

Jack shot me a glare but Katrina ignored my comment, continuing with her interrogation. "What was your most memorable scene?"

He didn't take any time to muse. "Peace Corps, Paraguay, 2010. A young woman in the village was a con artist. She was sharp, came up with brilliant schemes to make money, played people like a game. Then one day I caught her in the act. She was so ashamed and begged me not to turn her in, tried to bribe me, promised it'd be the last time she'd do such a thing. Naturally, we came to an agreement that a spanking would be adequate punishment instead of sending her to the village elders.

"We went back to my place, and I scolded her, in English because my Spanish is _muy mal_. I made her lean over the back of the couch, dress up, panties down. The scene was as formal as possible, that's what would've been most effective for her, and I used a traditional South American implement — the _rebenque_ , which is a leather strap."

Katrina's mouth dropped. "Whaaat really? That doesn't sound believable!"

"I know. Even I don't believe it sometimes," Jack said with a nod.

But the story was true — I'd heard it years ago during a night of drunken confessions, though in a different tone. The part he left out now was that along with the spanking, he'd also taken the money bribe, which caused so much guilt he ended up donating most of it to a village charity.

Knowing that I wouldn't entertain her questions, Katrina turned to Donna. "What about you? Any crazy stories?"

"Hmmm..." She tapped her lips with the tip of her finger, pondering for a second before looking back at me. "The time that stands out in my mind was with Harvey."

With a shake of my head, I murmured, "Oh geez, I know what you're gonna say."

"I was with a friend at a bar, doing drugs and illegal gambling." Now everyone looked at me, assuming I was the friend, before urging Donna to continue. "A fight broke out, someone called the cops, and I couldn't find my friend, who was underage at the time and I knew it. I was so young, too, like recently turned 21. I called Harvey crying, he came immediately in a panic. My friend was in handcuffs and I was bawling too much to talk to the police, so imagine the relief when he appeared and dealt with it for me. But it was the most awkward ride home.

"The next day when I saw him, Harvey gave me a harsh lecture while I stood bare naked in the middle of his living room. I was mortified because that's one of my limits - I don't usually allow fully nude spankings. But this time it felt well-deserved. He bent me over the arm of his sofa, first using a heavy belt and later giving me the hardest paddling of my life. But the worst part was the scolding. His words stung more than the implements. He showed no mercy. Ouch."

He also demanded Donna cut off said underage friend because of her bad influence. It's funny the details people leave out.

"Damnnn! You're wild, girl!" The giggle pierced my eardrums again, and I sighed, rolling my eyes.

"How much longer till we're there?" I shouted, ready for a smoke.

Seeley glimpsed at the GPS then back at me. "Still another half hour."

As Donna and Jack told more spanko stories to Katrina, I zoned out, thinking about Harvey. It'd been almost two weeks since I ignored his message to meet up. Donna had said he wanted my help with a case, which I'd done before and enjoyed. But right now the grief was too strong to commit to something new.

x-x-x-x

When we finally pulled into the arena parking lot, I was the first out of the SUV, immediately lighting up and walking away. I stretched my legs and tried to pump myself up for the match. Katrina's squeaky voice and know-it-all attitude had been grating on my nerves for the last hour, and I was ready to channel all my rage into paintball.

Everyone was inside by the time I stubbed out my cigarette. Checking to make sure my baggy was still secure in the little pocket of Mike's swim shorts, I walked to the tiny warehouse-type building. Donna chatted up the cashier while Seeley inspected guns. The other three were huddled up conversing and giggling, so I stayed off to the side until Jack and Dana approached me wearing red helmets, holding out one for me.

"It'll be us against Donna, Seeley, and Katrina."

I mock-gagged at that last name. "Don't be a traitor and let your new little girlfriend win."

Jack frowned. "What's your problem? We're trying to do something fun and you've been all day with this constant negativity, it's getting old."

"What the fuck, really? You're practically sucking face with a teenager." On top of the pent up energy, my adrenaline was kicking in, and mixed with the uppers was sure to end in a disaster. I bowed up, fists clenched (though I'd never actually hit Jack). He was calm as the streets on Christmas Day.

"Don't make excuses for your poor behavior. As you would say, it's not cute."

Before I blew up, Dana spoke. "Hey, we should develop a strategy!"

Tension was thick, but New Girl's diversion tactic worked for me. "Seeley's their top shooter, so we should get him out first. And I'm probably our top shooter, so you two will have to go for the flag."

Irked that we avoided the serious talk, Jack sourly entertained our strategizing for a few minutes until we were called over to pick our guns and escorted outside.

The course was the size of half a football field, a mixture of grass and dirt, metal barrels scattered throughout the arena. There were also a few rusty cars and other objects to hide behind. A referee showed us the boundaries and base, then explained the rules. It was a typical capture the flag game, and when a player is hit, s/he would go back to home base to start over. No headshots, no point-blank shooting, and only one "bullet" at a time.

An uneasy silence fell upon my team as we arrived at our base. Jack and I ignored each other, Dana stuck between the friction.

"So I'll take the right, Jack the left, and you in the middle," Dana repeated, keeping us grounded. "Watch out for Seeley, he'll be easy to spot but looking for you."

"Yeah, I got it," I grumbled.

Jack added his two cents. "And don't forget to play fair."

As the whistle blew to start the game, I felt smoke coming out of my ears. _How dare Jack assume I won't act correctly? I always behave!_

Well, mostly.

The assertion that I'd do something unsportsmanlike triggered fury, but now I had to ignore that and focus on the task at hand. My teammates scurried off, and I searched for an old rusty car to hide behind. It was too soon in the game for much action, so I had to perch there for a while, unable to sit still, brain racing. _What the fuck is wrong with Jack?! He thinks I'm gonna play dirty? Well, I'll show him!_

The rage boiled inside me, faint memories of the day Jason broke up with me dancing in my subconscious. _Revenge._ That's what I wanted.

It was impossible to wait any longer or remain stealthy, so I hunted my opponents, quickly finding Katrina and landing a few shots to her right thigh. She screeched and ran off limping to their home base.

Then the ref admonished me: "One shot at a time! This is your warning."

Jack frowned at me as Seeley fired in my direction, but I ducked into a hiding spot before he could hit me. I peered from behind the barrel, shooting at every movement, though mostly I stalked Katrina, the easiest target for my aggression. I must've sent her back to home base three times before Donna caught our flag and waved it around with excitement.

"Sonofabitch!" I yelled and knocked my gun against the barrel.

"Relax," Jack said. "We'll get them next time. Spread out, don't focus only on one person."

I didn't have time for his mouth. "Fuck off." For good measure, I also flipped him off, running towards Dana. To her I said, "stay low and near the edge of the arena, get the flag, I'll cover you."

She did as I commanded and I went back to focusing on the game, again mostly Katrina. I saw Dana out of the corner of my eye as she inched towards Seeley, who was looking at Jack. Donna and Katrina were nowhere to be found, so I took the shot towards Seeley and darted behind a barrel before he figured out my hiding spot.

A glimmer of blonde hair caught my eye, and I shot in that direction, not exactly caring that I was sorta aiming for her face. Katrina shrieked and ducked down, though I wasn't firing anymore.

_That's what you get for not hiding better, pendeja._

I looked over my shoulder to find Dana, no luck. Then I looked over my other shoulder for Jack, also no luck. Then I heard a loud BANG, BANG, BANG! and felt like someone had socked me in the stomach with a baseball bat. Looking up, I saw Katrina standing entirely too close to be safe.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" I shrieked, unhooking my helmet and slamming it to the ground with my goggles as I clutched my abdomen in pain.

"Jesus, it's just a paintball."

"You laid it on me you fucking piece of shit. It's supposed to be one shot!"

Katrina stood there nonchalantly, smiling even. "You'll be fine."

I stood suddenly, ready to give her a taste of her own medicine, only to be blocked by Seeley. "Easy there, tiger. No real fighting in paintball."

"Get out of my way," I scowled, shoving at him.

He grabbed ahold of my shoulders, talking to me in a soothing voice, but it wasn't helping. Since I couldn't move, I opted instead to chunk my gun at Katrina, narrowly missing her ugly face.

It was a shitshow for a few minutes, Seeley restraining me from attacking this bitch, Katrina looking at me in shock while calling me crazy to Jack, who didn't even bother defending me. The referee came to kick me out, but it didn't matter cuz I was leaving. Nobody wanted me there, siding with Katrina instead of me, when I'd been friends with them much longer, knew more of their secrets. But of course, everyone always likes the pretty skinny blond girl.

I was already in the parking lot smoking a cigarette and ordering an Uber when I turned and saw Dana following me.

"Katrina seems annoying."

"Fuck her. I hope someone shoots her in the vagina."

Dana laughed, and I offered her a cigarette which she gladly accepted.

"Jack's pissed at me, right?"

Taking a drag off the cigarette she shrugged. "He'll get over it."

We stood in silence for a moment until my phone buzzed, telling me my driver had arrived. "What do you say let's get the fuck out of here?"

She looked at the arena, nodded towards Seeley and smiled, waved goodbye, finally turning back to me. "Let's."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Violet finally pays the consequences of her actions. M/F spanking, kind of intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ve made this into an original story that can be found on my website, Breanna’s Story World. I will only post one more chapter after this.
> 
> This is an AU from the perspective of Violet, either an original character or a purple-haired, Mexican version of Rachel. Mike is her journalist brother. Harvey is her ex-spanker. Donna is her pothead psychotherapist best friend. Jack is a character from Bones.

I’d passed out on the recliner and was in a dead sleep when a bright light nearly blinded me, and I heard the familiar cocky voice: “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” It was Harvey. 

At first, I thought it was a dream. 

“This place is a disaster. Why did you wait so long to call?”

“Thought she’d snap out of it… or that we could get her out of it.” That was Donna. 

Then Jack spoke: “Usually one of us can, but not this time.” 

Knowing Harvey, he shook his head as he responded, “That won’t work. Neither of you is tough enough on her. She’ll walk all over you.”

I wanted to scream, “I’m right here!” so they’d stop talking shit, but I was too weak, still kind of sleeping. Ignoring the sound of heavy footsteps moving toward me, I tried to drift back asleep only to be rudely interrupted by a sudden jolt against my shoulder. 

“Get your ass up, now!”

“Fuck off, Harvey,” I muttered, slapping his hands away. 

He grabbed my chin and pulled my face towards him. “Open your eyes and look at me.” His severe tone made my tummy drop, memories of his merciless spankings drifting into my conscious.

Eyelids peeling open in a glare, I noticed my trio of friends staring intently at me. Donna had dark circles under her eyes, raised eyebrows and her lower lip poked out, thumbs twiddling as she shifted from one foot to another. Was she expecting to get spanked, too, or what had her so nervous? Jack’s hands were on his hips, lips pressed together in disappointment, brown hair sticking out in a disheveled mess. He may as well have been shaking his head at me. And then I looked back up at the 6’1” frame towering over me. Harvey was dressed in a smoke-colored suit with a matching tie, hair slicked back like a rich douchebag. His arms were folded and brows furrowed, hazel eyes dancing in flames.

Teeth clenched, he scolded in a low voice, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Well I  _ was _ sleeping, but SOMEONE woke me up.” I yawned and stretched, trying to make sense of everything.  _ Why is Harvey here? And why am I still dressed in paintball clothes? What happened last night?  _

A light growl escaped Harvey’s lips, and he reached for my upper arm, yanking me out of my seat much easier than I would have liked. “Shower,  _ now _ .” 

My arms folded, and I looked him up and down. “I know you’re not talkin’ to me like that.”

Without hesitation, Harvey seized a handful of my ratty hair in hand and dragged me forward, ignoring my protests. “I don’t have time for your defiance this evening,” he barked as he hauled me to the bathroom. When we arrived in front of the tub, he directed Donna to help me shower, even giving her a bathbrush in case she needed to swat me. 

“What the fuck, bro!!! Donna and I aren’t friends like that!!! She isn’t allowed to spank me… she’s not even a dom!!!”

He took the brush from our friend and I almost smiled in victory until he pounded it against my ass five times in quick succession. The pops echoed through the bathroom, followed by my shrieks. My hands flew to block any further swats, but Harvey had passed the brush back to Donna and was now grasping onto my shoulders and giving me a light shake. “Did that hurt?”

I scowled, refusing to answer until he reached for the brush again, then I shouted, “yes! Yes, it hurt!”

Too late, though. He was already turning me to the side and delivering another five swats even harder than before, somehow managing to dodge my hands. “I suggest you control that attitude, because you’re making it worse on yourself.” Five more hard, fast blows descended on my aching backside. “You have ten minutes. If I have to come back in here, that bathbrush will meet your naked wet ass and I’m certain you won’t enjoy it.” He tossed the brush back to Donna, turning to leave.

“Fuck  _ off! _ ” I half-shouted as the bathroom door closed behind him. Fortunately, he didn’t return.

I glanced at Donna who wasn’t nearly as tough as Harvey and looked as if she felt almost sorry for me. Instead of speaking, she reached for the bathtub faucet and pushed it on, adjusting the temperature until it was steamy, just as I liked it. Then she went to the toilet and sat atop the closed lid, pulling out her phone to scroll through social media. 

I sighed, peeling off my dirty clothes, and stepped into the shower, moaning when the hot water bit my skin. For a second I stood there under the warm mist, enjoying every droplet sliding down my body, even my curvy bottom that still stung from the bathbrush swats. I could’ve stayed there for hours, but Donna’s cough reminded me I only had a few minutes left. So I reached for the shampoo and lathered it into my hair, breathing in the apple scent as I also rubbed it over the rest of me. Then I dunked under the nozzle, sobering up more with each sud I washed.

When I seemed clean enough, I found the courage to ask Donna, “what happened yesterday?”

“No time to explain now.”

I poked my head out of the shower curtain and she glanced up at me, glasses beginning to fog. “Was it bad?”

She nodded. “We’re all worried.”

With an annoyed groan, I closed the curtains and rubbed my butt where Harvey had smacked down the bathbrush.  _ This is nothing compared to what’s coming _ , I reminded myself with a gulp. Trepidation mixed with a flake of excitement as I wondered how degrading my punishment would be.

Refreshed, I turned off the shower and grabbed my purple towel, first running it through my hair, then wrapping up my body. Donna opened the door, and the steam escaped first, followed by my friend dragging me back to Mike’s room. 

“Damn, why’s everyone bein’ so rough today?” 

She shot me a glare and thrust me inside the bedroom, nearly causing me to stumble into Jack. “You’re not even sorry. It’s starting to piss me off.”

“She’ll be sorry soon enough,” Harvey promised, hanging his suit jacket on the closet door and walking towards me.

I rolled my eyes and fingered my damp hair, avoiding eye contact with my three peers who stood before me.

Harvey stepped forward and my heart skipped a beat. “You may as well take that off. You won’t need it any time soon,” he said, nodding towards my towel.

“What?? In front of all of you??”

“Are you telling me that there’s anything one of us hasn’t already seen?”

With a grumble, I tossed the towel aside and stood up shamelessly, awkwardness radiating inside. Every bodily imperfection came to mind, but I kept a neutral expression, unwilling to show weakness.

“Explain this mess you’ve made.” He twirled his finger above his head as if speaking literally about the clutter in the room, but we both knew he was referring to the mess I’d made of myself.

“Cleaning is boring,” I replied with a yawn.

Harvey stepped closer and smirked, though I could tell he wasn’t amused about my situation. “Did you get fired?” His warm breath tickled the hairs on my neck, sending a chill down my spine. Jack and Donna stayed back looking on curiously.  _ What must they all think of me? _

I shifted outside myself to see the scene as an objective observer: A 36-year-old wealthy professional standing amidst my trash and dirty clothes, the stench of rotten food mixed with weed and liquor hovering as he stares down at a naked 24-year-old Mexican girl from the hood. What a fuckup.

“Yes, I was fired, but..”

“Don’t give me bullshit excuses,” he snapped and my mouth shut instantly. “Why did you get fired?”

I glanced back at Donna and Jack, half to glare at them for bringing him here, half to get assistance explaining myself. But neither of them jumped in to help me climb out of the hole I’d dug. “I missed an important meeting, and it isn’t the first time it’s happened.” 

Harvey paced in front of me, shaking his head. “And what have you been doing since losing your job? Fucking around with drugs again?”

His words made me shiver, taking me back to our last spanking encounter. Images flashed in my mind, bits and pieces from when I’d lived with him, like a movie trailer: me in handcuffs at Dominic’s, Harvey talking to the cops, our screaming match in his apartment, the day-long punishment that ensued. 

“I asked you a question,” Harvey said firmly and planted a hard smack on my bottom.

My hands flew back to rub out the sting. “Ow, fuck! Yeah, fine, okay, maybe a little.”

“And we all know that when Violet snorts coke she also starts pissing away her money gambling, isn’t that right?”

“Stop treating me like a criminal. This isn’t a trial.”

“So am I wrong?”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine, yeah, I’ve been gambling.”

“How much debt are you in right now?”

“Fuck you, I’m not answering that.” I shook my head. “It’s none of your business, but yeah I’m in debt, okay? I’m not proud.”

He continued pacing, beginning to roll up his sleeves. Knowing that I get uncomfortable in silence, he tortured me a bit, hoping I’d break. But when both sleeves were up to his elbows, the pacing stopped and he looked me dead in the eyes, steely expression. “Answer my question.” 

Intimidation wasn’t enough to extract information, and Harvey knew it. And while he normally indulged me in arguments, tonight he decided to get straight to the point and bent me over the arm of the recliner. 

A cool breeze tickled my bare butt as the thick leather belt slid out of his pants. The buckle’s jingle made me quiver. I’d not been properly whipped in a long time, as Jason had reminded me a few days (or was it weeks?) ago. Part of me hated submitting to Harvey, but I wasn’t brave enough to fight yet. Maybe because I was outnumbered.

“Still don’t want to answer?” Harvey asked, folding the belt over and holding it out like a tennis racket.

Face pressed against the recliner seat, I muttered, “No. You’ll have to beat it out of me.”

I kept my eyes on him as he lifted the leather high in the air, seemingly slow motion as it crashed against my vulnerable bottom. Biting my lower lip did nothing to keep me quiet, and a high-pitched squeak erupted. 

The leather bit into my skin again, right on my sit spots. “Owwww! What the fuck, bro!”

Um, yeah, he didn’t like that. “Excuse me?” Then landed three ruthless lashes to my thighs. “You will address me as ‘Sir,’ am I clear?”

“Fuuuuck….” Shrieking, I covered my backside with my left arm as I pushed myself up with my right. “I’m not gonna let you do this!” I shouted, now on my feet and rubbing my aching bottom furiously.

“Are you ready to come clean?”

He was too close for comfort, blocking any escape route. “I don’t have to deal with this bullshit, get the fuck away.” I reached up to shove him, but he caught my wrists with cat-like reflexes. 

“Don’t even think about it.”

My heart hammered against my ribcage, only drowned out by the loud huffs of my breathing as I struggled to break from Harvey’s calm clutch. He could win this fight, but how far was he willing to go? After all, we had two observers (who were fixated on the scene). “Would you stop!?”

“Answer my goddamn question.”

Eyes narrowed, I sneered, “Why do I have to give you a fucking number?”

“Would you put your ego aside and just trust me for a minute?”

Still glaring, my nostrils flared and I took a deep breath to gather my thoughts.  _ What the fuck is he talking about? Is he trying to humble me? Why won’t he fold under my pressure?  _ That had me a little intimidated… no matter how much I fought, Harvey wouldn’t stop asking, and I was running out of evasion techniques. 

My struggles ceased as I exhaled, closing my eyes. Admitting to my debt made it real. I hadn’t even calculated my expenditures… did I need to include what I’d stolen from Jason? Or from my old job? Or the coke I’d yet to pay off? 

“Honestly, I can’t answer, cuz I have no clue.”

It seemed to have satisfied him because he released my wrists. But then he said, “Get back over,” pointing to the recliner. 

“What..?”

“You think I’m going to let you get away with getting up in the middle of a punishment, then being defiant, and then giving a cop-out answer? Over the chair,  _ NOW _ !”

I gave a look of disbelief to my friends, who still didn’t say a word.

“Don’t look at them, they won’t get you out of this. They’re on my side.”

I glared at him, rooted in place, not sure if panic or anger. Time to use my last card. “It’s not like you would even know what’s going on. How long has it been now? Six, seven years? You didn’t care for so long, why the sudden change? So you know what, save your lecture and stop pretending like I matter to you.” 

“You know who cares?” The harshness of his tone told me I’d struck a nerve. The win was about to go to me… “Your friends who’ve been worried sick about you for the last two weeks while you’ve abandoned them to go out doing God knows what, fucked up on drugs, running up a debt.” He stared at me hard. I didn’t dare break eye contact, ignoring the burning in my stomach, pestering me to react. “Your friends who’ve been trying to help you, but you keep choosing drugs over them.”

Now he struck one of my nerves. My shoulders tensed and fists clenched, ready to strike.

“See, two can play at that game,” he said in a low voice, almost mocking me, then leaned in. “Get over the goddamn chair.”

Through teary eyes, I saw Donna shifting nervously in the background. Maybe she was ready to jump in to save me like I used to do for her, but probably not. She’d been worrying over me since I moved in and wouldn’t have called Harvey unless it was a last resort.

Jack spoke up. “Accept your punishment, Vi. It’s the only way.”

He was right.

But it wasn’t cute to submit so humbly. So I groaned and said, “fine.” I positioned myself back over the arm of the recliner, now burying my face into my hands. Probably I’d be bawling within the next few seconds, might as well prepare myself.  _ Fuck my life. _

Before I was fully settled, the first lash struck me across the butt cheeks, right in the center. I howled, bucking up, reminding myself to submit and hid my face again. 

“If you can’t control yourself from getting out of hand,” he scolded, landing another blow, “I’ll have to do it myself.” And another. “Because you have too much potential to fuck your life up with this bullshit.” An extra hard swat, right across the sit spots.

That last one made me yelp and hiss obscenities at him under my breath. Luckily he ignored it.

“And because I owe your brother a favor, which I’m sure if he knew what you were up to, he would’ve asked me to do this a long time ago.” Then another two swats of normal intensity. “And if I’m being completely honest, I love a good challenge.” I would have found it flattering that he saw me as a challenge, but he didn’t give me much time cuz he delivered a few lashes to my thighs.

“Damnnnn okay!! Fucking stop already!”

“How much debt are you in?”

“I told you I don’t…”

Before letting me finish he hit me again. “Give me an estimate.”

“Arghhhh…!” I didn’t wanna say it out loud... that would make it too real… But my stalling earned me a few more swats until I reached back and said “okay okay! 10k! I owe like 10k…”

Time stopped. An icy lump formed in my throat as I thought about my transgressions over these last few days. Fuck me.

“Ten thousand?”

Did he really expect me to repeat myself? I couldn’t.

“You spent ten thousand dollars in less than two weeks? What the hell did you blow a grand a night on?”

I buried my face more into my hands. Another question I didn’t want to answer.

Not that I had much of a choice — the belt crashed down a few more times until the words spilled out. “Coke. Whiskey. Poker. Clubs. Everything.”

I dared peek through my fingers to see how Harvey handled that information. He stepped closer to me, eyebrows raised. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I wish.”

He shook his head and glanced at Donna. “Bring me a paddle. And my briefcase.” And like an obedient little puppy, my red-headed friend scampered away towards her room. 

  
  
  



End file.
